


The Thaw

by TheOriginalSuki



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSuki/pseuds/TheOriginalSuki
Summary: The thaw blew into Winterfell that day, and Jon came with it.





	The Thaw

i.

Spring flushes in the North, high and full.  At first, it comes in slowly; greens put out their fingertips from the snowy soil.  Then, overnight everything sits stalk upright, like a sleeper waking.

Sansa feels it inside her long before it shows: a broadening and an airing out, as if someone has opened a window.  For thirteen months they waded through winter. Jon has been pardoned for ten of them.  Still, she doesn’t send for him.  He will come back in his own time.

One morning she wakes to a sound like gentle rain.  When she peers out the window, sunlight flares in her eyes; before they clear, she knows the snow is melting. 

The thaw blows into Winterfell that day.  And Jon comes with it.

 

ii.

When he comes before her, he drops to his knee; the sword with a wolf's head laid before him; eyes cast in obeisance.  For a moment she doesn't know how she will greet him; then the cool-fresh wind moves through the halls. It picks her up and carries her to him.  She sinks, inserting herself into the pocket of space next to his body; she climbs into him like a suit of armour, and he completes it with a grasp tight as a chain.

 

iii.

Those first days he haunts the halls; he is not much more than shadow.  The shape of a man who was once king.

"Will you stay?" she asks him.

"As you wish."

A violent shake of her head.  "What do  _you_ want?"

His eyes narrow, and they are unfastened.  They can't quite grip what's real.  "I'm so tired."

 

iv. 

Jon Snow comes and goes from Winterfell.  The queen demands nothing of him.  

After a time, when they talk, she will bring matters before him; if he speaks, she listens; if he is silent, she leaves it.  There is always a place for him at her council, at her table.  There is a room that remains empty when he wanders, and which is furnished and lit for him when he arrives.  

 

iv.

His time there grows longer between absences.  When he is gone, ravens fly to and from the Wall like black arrows.  

Jon strides through the gates, shaking himself out like a dog from the hunt.  Sansa is not expecting him.  She calls for a bath to be readied.  After bathing, food is brought to him, and she carries it in herself, sitting near him, refilling his plate.  They speak easily, familiarly.  They walk, shoulder to shoulder, stride for stride, not ever hurrying, with a direwolf between them.  Sometimes they argue.  The old ones say it as though the Lord and Lady of Winterfell never left; the children do not understand.  Jon and Sansa are the only lord and lady of Winterfell they have ever known.

 

v.

In the heart of summer, he is weary.  He lies in shade under the heart tree, and Sansa sits beside him, making daisy chains.  His eyelids flutter.  He hears her singing.

Then he jolts awake, cold and burning in every limb.  Shadows crept under the red leaves while he slept, and stole the sunshine.  For a single terrifying moment he believes it is winter again.  Then there are arms pressing around him, gentle but persistent, even as he flails against them.  Sansa surrounds him with herself, firm, unyielding.  She cradles his head into her neck, until the fire and blood and ice retreat, and there is only them: the knot of them, as it has always been after all these years.  

She says, "It's all right, I'm here.  You're safe, I'll protect you."

 

vi.

He goes on a long journey, roaming far beyond the Wall.  Ravens cannot find him.

The wheel of the world turns to autumn.  The maesters have read the signs.  In the godswood, Sansa sits crying.  She is not ready for winter yet.  But -- a soft sound as of a bird landing, and there is Jon, looking down at her.  He lowers himself to meet her eyes.  He says, "I'm ready now.  I want to marry, and have a family."  His look is steady and unbroken, the tide pressing toward the shore.

Sansa swipes away her tears.  Her smile breaks like the sun through clouds.  "Me, too."

**Author's Note:**

> It took me four days to write this. I needed it to be just right. After everything, I needed something gentle and easy for Jon. That's hard to convey. I hope I did it justice. Like everybody else, I just want peace for my poor bebe after that season 8 character assassination!


End file.
